


Lost Without You

by adavison



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-Generation Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/F, Haunted Houses, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Possibly Unrequited Love, Present Tense, Vaginal Fingering, Wangs and Fangs: A Halloween HP Cross-Gen Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison/pseuds/adavison
Summary: Aurora tries to justify her relationship (if it can be called that) with Pansy Parkinson.
Relationships: Aurora Sinistra/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11
Collections: Wangs and Fangs: A Halloween Cross-Gen Fest





	Lost Without You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Wangs and Fangs: A Halloween Cross-Gen Fest.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful Alpha/Beta  
> [meditationsinemergencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/profile), without whom none of this would have been possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR and associated publishers. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. The comments and opinions expressed by the original creator do not reflect the views of the author of this transformative work.

Her scent is intoxicating. Eucalyptus body wash, Chanel No. 5, clean sweat, and skin. Her cunt is warm under my tongue, begging for more pressure, more movement, but I make her wait. She whimpers as I rest the flat of my tongue against her centre, letting her feel how heavy with want it is for her, and only her. 

Slowly, I allow myself to move, to part her opening labia, and flick at her clit. The sounds she makes are positively indecent and bound to draw attention, but at this point, I don’t care.

Her right leg readjusts itself on my shoulder as I allow myself to dive deeply into her. I can feel her desire in the roll of her hips, the tightening of her muscles, her sweet juices dripping down my chin. She’s always so responsive for me, but tonight… tonight it’s been taken to a whole nother level. 

It must be the exposure. It would be so easy for us to be caught. The other Curse Breakers have left for the night, and the remaining workers have been milling about the rear of the property for the last half hour. They could round the corner of the house at any moment and see us. See Pansy perched on the front porch’s railing with my head between her thighs, desperate to make her come. 

My mind drifts momentarily to the ghosts of the three Pendle witches who reside in the house. Their curse has been broken. Pansy and I have helped them move on, allegedly. All of my charts said that the stars were right tonight, but it is possible that the ghosts have just gone dormant. If so, are they hiding somewhere, watching me eat out the most beautiful woman alive? Do they pity me, my fate?

Pansy is here, for now, but she will be leaving me again soon. She groans and squeezes a now exposed nipple. The dusky pink pebbled flesh makes my mouth water and my heart flutter as though something is wrong. It is wrong, what we’re doing. It shouldn’t be done in public, but needs must.

Soon, she will be leaving me for another country, another job, another life. Again. But while she is here, I will spend every moment I can worshipping her body. Telling her with my hands and my mouth all of the things I cannot—I dare not—put into words. 

My fingers slide around her opening and slowly sink in, just the way that she likes. I thrust them lazily, knowing that we’re on a time constraint, but unable to care. Who knows how long she will be gone this time, and I want this memory to last. I  _ need  _ it to last. 

She’s young. Merlin, so young. And I, I have no right in asking her to stay. She’s suffered so much. Accomplished so much. She doesn’t want to be tied down. Doesn’t deserve to have to be beholden to someone she’s only able to see maybe four times a year. But ever since that fateful day when she came to me asking for help with a case, I’ve been a goner. 

Pushing the thoughts from my mind I allow the waning adrenaline from the night’s activities to fade into a dull thrum. Nothing else is important right now—nothing else except for her. My aim: make her come. Make her come so hard that she won’t be able to stay away. 

My tongue lavs at her pretty pink clit while I slide two fingers into her slick heat, curling to brush up against that spot inside of her that I know drives her wild. Her hand grasps the back of my hand, holding my face in place while I feast on her juices. I’m like a dying woman, drinking the blood of a unicorn, knowing that I’ll live, I’ll be saved, but that life will be cursed. 

I must remember this: every moan, every sigh, every rock of her hips, the flutter of her cunt as she climbs ever nearer to her peak. I want to bottle this moment and save it for all the lonely nights that are sure to come. If I had access to a Pensive, I’d do just that. But for now, I will settle for replaying it within the confines of my own mind. Allowing the edges to soften and for me to believe that she truly loves me.

She cares. I know that she does. In her own way. But love? No. I am more than a warm and willing body, but so much less than someone she wants to come home to. Maybe one day, I tell myself. Maybe one day when she has had her fill of travel and danger. Maybe one day she will long to put down roots. Until then, I will settle for the privilege of bringing her pleasure and being pleasured by her. 

“Aurora,” she moans, tugging on my curls. “Aurora, the portkey’s about to—”

I don’t let her finish her sentence. I redouble my efforts, fucking into her with my fingers, sucking on her clit, grasping her hip with a bruising force as she rides my face, and spasms around my fingers. A strangled cry escapes those plump lips that only minutes ago were on my cunt, and she comes, unravelling above me. It’s one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen and I can’t help myself. I keep going. She’s barely come down before she’s cresting another wave of pleasure. I drink it down, savouring her flavour, cataloguing it for review on my next lonely night.

And suddenly, I’m being lifted up. My mouth is brought to her’s in a searing kiss, she tastes her own arousal on my tongue and moans. Another flare of want burns low in my belly and I long for her to touch me again, to claim my body for her own desires. 

But no. 

She pulls away with a cheeky smirk and pulls an old key out of her pocket that’s starting to glow blue. “Got to go, beautiful. See you next time?”

“Next time,” I whisper, already feeling her loss. “Be careful.”

“Always am,” she winks and disappears.

I am left standing on the porch feeling lost, surrounded only by the sounds of the night. Alone again. 


End file.
